


"My Sunshine"

by peachyymiilk



Category: Food Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:01:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22217464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachyymiilk/pseuds/peachyymiilk
Summary: Napoleon Cake feels like everyone else dislikes him, until Pastel de Nata comes to comfort him.
Relationships: B-52/Brownie (Food Fantasy), Napoleon Cake/Pastel de Nata (Food Fantasy)
Kudos: 31





	"My Sunshine"

Pastel had just come home from delivering some dishes, and even if he won't admit it, he was looking for Napoleon. At that time, Napoleon would've already come and greeted him, begging for sweets while he was at it. 

“Are you looking for Napo?” A soft voice asked. 

Pastel’s head snapped to the sound of the voice. “Brownie?” Pastel flushed, “How did you know?” Pastel always made excuses to seem like he never enjoyed being with Napoleon, but honestly he did. 

A small smile danced on Brownie’s lips. “You'd be with him by now. You may not notice this, but you’re happier with Napo.”

Pastel’s blush turned into a deeper shade of red. “Do you know where Napoleon is?” He asked instead. Brownie shook his head, explaining that he hasn’t seen Napoleon since he sulked off to his room.

“I’ve tried to help him, but he said he wanted to be alone,” Brownie sighed. “I’m concerned, Napo’s never this sad. Would you check up on him? I would, but I have to help clean up the restaurant. Take this,” Brownie continued, handing him a plate of sweets. “Give it to Napo.” Pastel gave Brownie his word, and dashed off to find Napoleon.

It would be an understatement to say that Pastel was worried. No matter how much Pastel would cut him off, tell him to leave, Napoleon remained positive and happy. When someone was upset, or morale was down, Napoleon would be the sun to brighten their day. If the moodmaker was sad, how would everyone else be cheerful?

“Napoleon? Napoleon!” Pastel rapped on the door, but Napoleon never answered. Pastel fished the key to his door as quickly as he could (which was quite difficult, for one of his hands was holding a plate). 

“Napoleon? Are you alright?” Napoleon was curled up into a ball, leaning against the wall, sitting on his bed. His flag was propped up against a cabinet, and his hat was on his nightstand instead of on his head. It stunned Pastel to see his usual bubbly boyfriend had tears streaming down his face. 

“... Can you… leave?” Napoleon’s loud and confident voice was only a mere, ghostly whisper, which pained Pastel even more. 

“No. Not until you tell me what's wrong… Would you like some sweets?” Napoleon shook his head, but still looked away from the now surprised Pastel. “He doesn't even want to eat, he must be very upset,” Pastel thought, frowning. “What's wrong?” 

“I… I’m fine…” 

“You’re crying. Don’t lie to me, Leon.” 

“Do you really wanna know? It’s… pathetic. It’s not even important,” Napoleon mumbled.

Pastel sighed, “If you’re crying about it, it’s important.”

There was a long silence before Napoleon softly mumbled, “Am I annoying…?” Pastel was speechless, letting Napoleon continue. “It’s just that I’m always bothering you or Brownie for desserts, clinging onto you, or being loud and obnoxious. I feel like that no one likes me, that I'm irritating.” 

“Leon, you’re not annoying. Sure, you’re a handful sometimes, but you’re never annoying. Brownie is your best friend, and I’m your boyfriend, you love sugar, so we’ll make sweets for you. If Brownie won’t just ask me, I’ll bake for you. You're not obnoxious, but yes, you are loud, yet that's okay. It makes you stand out, just like the sun. Everyone needs the sun, and you're my sunshine.” 

“Really?”

“Mhmm,” Pastel smiled, planting a kiss on Napoleon’s forehead. “Now, eat. You must be sugar-deprived after all that crying.” 

“Ok,” Napoleon smiled, grabbing the plate, which coincidentally only had pastel de natas and slices of napoleon cake. 

Later the door to Napoleon’s room opened, and a soft voice asked, “Napo? Oh-” Brownie and B-52 saw Napoleon curled up with Pastel, both sleeping soundly. “We should leave them be,” Brownie whispered, smiling.

“And go on our date?” B-52 asked. Brownie nodded, and the door to Napoleon’s room shut.


End file.
